Salvation
by Slayne22
Summary: BH/CG -- Cover Girl goes looking for a missing part of her life just before G.I. Joe is resurrected. She finds him battling inner demons and in danger of fading away... *All chapters uploaded. Complete!*
1. Destination

SALVATION  
  
Chapter 1 ("Destination")  
  
By Slayne  
  
Disclaimer-- I don't own G.I. Joe nor do I profit from them. I think they profit from our fanfiction though. If they sue... I'll demand compensation!  
  
Notes- This is kind of a 'what if' story. It doesn't necessarily fit into my whole universe timeline of Beach Head/Cover Girl stories... unless I eventually want it to. (hey... it's my universe!) It's just a story that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. I promise... the next one is another humorous piece back in the regular timeline of things.  
  
I don't like using real placenames, so I made up almost all of them. "Borislav" is just the name of a town in Central Europe that I used as a country in this fic. Sheldon, AL is also made up. Chicago, IL actually exists though. :-)  
  
Thanks-- Thanks to Scarlett_Hauser as always for proofing the story for me and for being such a kick-ass friend! Thanks to Bard for occasionally getting on my ass about writing. I sometimes need it. AND... thanks to Firefly for the military consultation. He even suggested ways to use the info he gave and he was EXTREMELY helpful to me! (Godspeed, Amigo!)  
  
This story takes place after the end of Joe in the Marvel comic universe, and slightly pre-Devil's Due 'Re-instatement' storyline. I might use this as the lead in to a series of stories set in the new continuity. It's a lot more serious than my usual BH/CG stories. Angst galore be here... take care!  
  
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"Wish I knew what you were looking for, Might have known what you would find. And it's something quite peculiar, Something shimmering and white. It leads you here, despite your destination Under the Milky Way tonight...."  
  
-- Under the Milky Way Tonight... The Church  
  
Courtney Krieger swung her Dodge Dakota off the old, weathered highway and onto the rutted dirt road that ran away into the woods. The suspension of the truck lurched and bucked as the wheels ran in the furrowed mud, slipping then climbing over tree branches and rocks. She reached out and hit the button to lock the hubs together and shift the vehicle into four- wheel drive. Immediately the truck dug in and began clawing it's way down the road. Although the sun shone through the thick forest of trees onto the trail occasionally, it was a brief respite. It had poured on her all the way here, and the radio had just told her that it was expected to rain again soon.  
  
Mud drops splattered up on the windshield, mixing with the water from the rain and numerous puddles she had driven through on the old Appalachian road. Her wipers scraped the mess clean, clearing her view, and she swore lightly as the truck hit a deep rut and threw her sideways against her seatbelt, snapping her neck sideways painfully.  
  
"I swear to god... if I bottom out this truck, I'll have that moron's balls in a vise..." She muttered as she hit the throttle to gain some momentum before attempting to drive up a steep hill. The Dakota was top of the line though, with a powerful engine and a lift kit to keep it clear of the ground, even during off-road driving. The tires slipped in the wet mud, but the engine growled and the 50 pound sand bags in the bed, that lay over the rear axel, gave it the needed traction to make it to the top of the hill. There was more of an actual road here. It was still two muddy furrows, but they weren't as deep. She glanced around as she drove now, free of hanging to the steering wheel for dear life. She had to admit that it was beautiful here. The mountains were peppered with lakes and thick forest and the heat had receded yesterday and hadn't returned. It was bordering on downright chilly now. Truthfully... she hadn't even realized that Alabama HAD mountains until she had looked at a map while at a rest stop outside of St. Louis on her way South.  
  
She sighed as the truck dipped across a shallow trickle that was either a stream or the flood runoff of a real stream. Since she'd left the Army, she'd never been without an off-road vehicle. She wasn't sure why. Something about the illusion of safety she guessed. Plus... she just missed the tanks and the Wolverine too damn much. She had sold her Hemi Cuda years ago, thinking she would buy another project car. Without G.I. Joe or the military to take up all her free time, she'd planned on restoring project after project. Maybe even open her own shop. But... it was funny... when she'd finally had the time to do everything she'd been planning, it had somehow all seemed too... settled down.  
  
She slowed to a stop as the trail forked in different directions.  
  
"Shit!" She bit her lip and looked at both forks. The man at the little store hadn't said anything about this. She studied the two trails and then slid the Dakota into gear again and turned left into the forest, following the fork with the deeper ruts. Tree branches and brush scraped along the sides and roof of the truck as she muscled her way through a new mud bog. She was beginning to wonder if she had been the victim of some cruel practical joke that would strand her in the middle of nowhere, her truck window deep in a pit of mud, when the trees suddenly opened and the Dakota climbed up onto a flat, gravel filled slab. She was so surprised that she hit the brakes too hard, activating the anti-lock brakes. The pedal groaned and pumped rapidly under her foot and the truck slowed quickly, stopping short of rear-ending an old Ford Bronco that was parked on the gravel.  
  
She sat there, foot on the brake, truck still in gear, staring at that Bronco. Christ... how long had it been? Seven years? It was old when he drove it around base, and he still hadn't bought a new vehicle? It looked exactly the same, from the faded blue paint to the long scratch along the driver's side door panel. The butterflies started in her gut then. What would he say when he saw her? What was he like now? She tore her eyes away from the Bronco, and slid the Dakota into park, then shut it off. There was a big wooden shed in front of the Bronco and a small, solid- looking house sat further along in the clearing. She opened the truck door and hopped down. The gravel crunched under her boots and she inhaled sharply as the cool air hit her bare arms. She reached back into the extended cab of the Dakota and pulled her old brown flight jacket out, slipping it on, and using one hand to flip her auburn hair from the collar. The long strands blew into her eyes in the breeze and she tossed her head. The afternoon was stretching on, and the sky was a mix of blue patches and huge, white and grey clouds moving rapidly. A darker, more ominous front was in the distance.  
  
She slammed the truck door shut and walked up past the Bronco, peering into the driver's window as she passed. There was an olive drab field jacket on the seat and an empty orange juice carton on the console. She hesitated briefly, memories flooding her mind. She'd ridden shotgun more than once in this vehicle. She remembered the way it rode, the way it sounded... the way it smelled. She sighed.  
  
No one answered her knock on the door of the house, and she tried the doorknob. Locked. Well... once a soldier, always a soldier. He wouldn't leave anything to chance like that, especially security. He knew better. She stood on the porch and looked around the clearing. It wasn't really a yard, since there was no short grass. It was either gravel or dirt or prairie grass and weeds. The forest approached within 50 feet on all sides. She walked around the back. There was a lean-to against another, smaller shed that covered a huge pile of firewood. An old, chipped picnic table sat close against the house, a plastic pan sitting on top of it. The tree closest to the table had a cord with a noose in it hanging from one of it's lower branches. She gave it a puzzled glance and then leaned over to peer into one of the house windows. There was a loud 'clack', before a low voice made her freeze in place, her heart jumping into her throat.  
  
"This is private property, lady..."  
  
Courtney felt her mouth run dry, more from the deep southern accent of the voice rather than from the deadly intent evident in the tone. She turned slowly around and found herself staring down the barrel of a 12-gauge shotgun. The 'clack' she'd heard had been the pump action forcing a shell into the firing chamber. She raised her gaze to the brown eyes above the barrel and watched them widen as he stared at her.  
  
"Hi Wayne." She said softly, raising her hands slowly.  
  
To be continued....  
  
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	2. The Gathering Storm

SALVATION  
  
Chapter Two ("The Gathering Storm")  
  
By Slayne  
  
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"Let me enlighten you, This is the way I pray. Living just isn't hard enough. Burn me alive inside. Living my life's not hard enough. Take everything away..."  
  
-- Prayer... By Disturbed  
"Courtney?" The brown eyes widened and, for a moment, were filled with an unreadable emotion before they narrowed again. She realized that she had learned to read his eyes well after so many years of watching his gaze behind that balaclava he always wore.  
  
"Surprise." She proclaimed in a mock lilting voice. He just stared at her in disbelief, until she glanced nervously at the barrel of the shotgun and then reached slowly out to push it down and away from her. "Is this how you treat all your guests?"  
  
"I don't have guests... how did you find me?" He recovered and flipped the 12-gauge up, setting it carefully down on the table. They stood for a long moment, just taking each other in. Her gaze ran over the gun belt he wore around his waist, his old M-9 holstered at his hip. He wore camouflage BDU pants, mud-covered swamp boots, and a long sleeved flannel shirt. He hadn't shaved in a few days, but his hair was clipped and neat and military short.  
  
"I um...heard you were back in Alabama, and when I got to your mailing address, it was a general store in Sheldon.  
  
He stared at her a second and then leaned down to pick up two dead squirrels that he'd lain in the grass while he'd held the gun on her. He walked to the table and threw them up on it. "The mail doesn't come up this far. I'm surprised that Dakota made it. The road is dangerous when it's raining."  
  
"Yeah, well it's... modified."  
  
He glanced at her and shook his head slightly as he picked up one of the squirrels. "I should have known."  
  
"I should have known you'd be packing heat... good thing I left my Glock in its case in the truck." She watched him, puzzled, as he slipped the tiny cord noose on the tree around a rear leg of the dead squirrel. He rolled his sleeves up past his elbows, revealing thick forearms covered in auburn hair. She caught the glint of red as a beam of sun reached through the blowing tree branches and landed on him. When she looked up, he was staring directly at her.  
  
"Jesus... you look good, Cover Girl." He was sincere, and his gaze raked down over her leather jacket, jeans and boots before settling on her blue eyes again. She smiled faintly, feeling those butterflies jump up in her stomach again. That old annoyance flared up with them. How did he do that? Why was he the only one who COULD do that?  
  
"Well, I wish I could say the same to you...but you look like shit, Beach."  
  
He shot her a familiar and annoyed glance. "Thanks..." He stated dryly.  
  
He didn't really. He looked like he'd been out rolling in the forest all day, but she could see the same old planes and angles of his face through the day-old growth of beard. There were a few more lines around his eyes and his mouth, a harder glare to his gaze... but he didn't look that much older. Considering what he'd been through since the end of G.I. Joe, she had expected him to look ancient. But even in his mid-thirties, he looked damn good. His stomach was still flat, and his arms still bulged with muscle. He glanced up at her.  
  
"So... I thought I'd see your picture in all the magazines once you left the Army."  
  
She smiled at that. "I was a little over-the-hill to become a model again...besides, I had enough of that when I was actually doing it."  
  
"Playboy would pay you big bucks..."  
  
She laughed and raised an eyebrow at him. "They already offered, but it's not my thing. Ummm.. Playboy, Wayne?"  
  
There was a flash of amusement in his eyes and he shrugged, motioning at their surroundings. "What can I say? A man needs some type of companionship."  
  
She glanced around and mimicked the shrug. "Especially if you keep killing off all the squirrels."  
  
He snorted and drew a shiny, sharp knife from his belt, twirling it in his fingers expertly before suddenly grabbing the dead animal and sliding the blade along its neck. Courtney flinched.  
  
"Awww..." She glanced away as the blood ran. That drew a stiff but amused smile from the former Army Ranger.  
  
"You can kill a tankful of Cobras in battle, but you can't stand the sight of a couple of dead squirrels?"  
  
She ignored him and watched as he began gutting and skinning the animal. His hands moved with precision and his eyes were intense and focused. It was a look she knew well on him.  
  
"Wayne..."  
  
"Why are you here, Courtney?" He didn't look up from his task, his voice was low, the accent thick, making the 'why' sound like 'whah'.  
  
"What happened to you?" She asked quietly.  
  
He hesitated for a brief minute, his gaze losing that intense focus for a moment. "You know what happened. Is that why you're here? Did Hawk send you to talk me into joining up again?"  
  
"What? No! Besides...if he wanted to send someone to do that, shouldn't he have sent someone you actually like?"  
  
Their gazes met and locked together. His was heavy and piercing. Courtney looked away.  
  
"Right." He agreed, a bit sarcastically and with anger behind his tone.  
  
Courtney sighed. "That was a joke...I guess it was a bad one."  
  
"You've always made a lot of those...it should have been your secondary MOS." There wasn't a hint of a smile on his face, and Courtney fought the old urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she fell back on her old defense. She ignored the comment.  
  
"I thought that general store was the end of the line, but then the guy working there mentioned that I should watch out for the crazy militia kook who was living up in the mountains with a small armory." She grinned at him. "Then I realized I had found you."  
  
He glared at her and jabbed the knife in the air in her direction. "Well, if you're here to talk me into re-joining, then you can just un-find me and be on your way."  
  
She fell quiet and watched him silently, her thoughts flying. The clouds above were getting darker, and the cool wind had picked up a bit. She inhaled the breeze deeply and smiled, closing her eyes.  
  
"I didn't realize Alabama could be so beautiful." She remarked.  
  
"It's alright." He muttered, his eyes meeting hers as he moved past her. She held his gaze with searching eyes. They both knew that while Alabama was his home state, it was the Army that was truly 'home' for him.  
  
"There's a lot of things you never realized over the years." He said. He took the pan from the table and set it under a water spigot, filling it with cold water. He lifted it to the table and threw the first skinned squirrel into it. Courtney dodged the splash. He hung the second squirrel, and she grimaced as he set to work on it.  
  
"Maybe not." She agreed. She hesitated then, watching him carefully, before she said softly. "I saw the funerals on TV."  
  
He stopped working, his gaze shifting to the tree trunk past the hanging squirrel. She saw his jaw tighten, and he blinked rapidly a few times.  
  
"So? Everyone did."  
  
"You didn't want to resign..."  
  
"What I don't want...is to talk about this right now, Corp...Courtney."  
  
"Beach..."  
  
"Don't call me that anymore." He yanked the squirrel down from the noose and threw it in the pan of water. The glare on his face was dangerous. He walked past her and picked up the pan. "So...are you staying for dinner?"  
  
She glanced at the skinned bodies of the squirrels and felt her stomach lurch. When she looked back at him, he had a slight smirk behind the glare, and she felt that old annoyance come rushing back.  
  
"Yeah...if you don't mind."  
  
"What if I DO mind?"  
  
"Tough shit. I'm not missing a home-cooked meal from you, of all people."  
  
"Tell me that after you've tried squirrel gravy over noodles."  
  
She grinned and turned to follow him towards the door. "Do you wear an apron when you cook?"  
  
"Shut it, Barbie doll."  
  
To be continued......  
  
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	3. The Storm Breaks

SALVATION  
  
Chapter 3 ("The Storm Breaks")  
  
By Slayne  
  
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"Fade into you,  
  
Strange you never knew.  
  
Fade into you,  
  
I think it's strange you never knew..."  
  
-- Fade into You.. by Mazzy Star  
  
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The house wasn't bad for a single guy living on his own. Of course, Beach Head always had been a bit neurotic about control and therefore his quarters had been kept neat as a pin. He wasn't much for collecting all the crap that normal people acquired over a lifetime either. He had the basic furniture, along with an expensive steel gun cabinet. Courtney walked slowly around the small house while he took a shower. She carefully avoided the pan of dead squirrels in the sink as she nosed around the kitchen. Again... there were the basics, including one whole cupboard that held Army MREs. She gave a snort of laughter as she looked at them.  
  
"Some things never change..." she muttered as she closed the doors and then opened his fridge. It was nearly empty except for some bottles and jars. No beer or alcohol. Well... at least he hadn't descended into drinking his cares away. Not that she had expected him to. He didn't drink because he didn't like the lack of control over himself... not because he couldn't handle his liquor.  
  
He had one bookshelf in the small living room that held the closest thing he had to a collection: His military manuals and history textbooks. She saw two fiction paperbacks there too. One Nelson DeMille and one Tom Clancy, but the spines on both were new and unbroken. Unread. She smiled and ran a finger over the CID manual she had found one year at a flea market on leave in Chicago. She'd given it to him for Christmas that year when they were both stuck on base without holiday leave. Someone had to keep an eye on Cobra. He'd acted as if it had meant nothing of course, but that wasn't what she'd felt later that night when he'd pulled her under some mistletoe and kissed her slowly and deeply.  
  
She sighed. That had been right before the end of the Joes... and the end of their close friendship. There was a noise as the bathroom door opened and emitted some steam.  
  
"Stop going through my shit, Courtney." An invisible voice commanded.  
  
Courtney grinned. "What makes you think I'm going through your shit? I was hoping you'd became an alcoholic and had a good, stiff drink around here."  
  
There was a pause. Then, "Why? Do you need one?"  
  
She walked to the table and leaned against it, glancing into the bathroom. He was standing in a clean pair of camouflage cargo pants, no shirt or boots, shaving the rough growth of beard from his face. She couldn't hide her surprise for a moment and was thankful he was intent on his task and not looking at her. He was still all well-defined muscle and light auburn hair. Damn.  
  
"Hell yeah..." she muttered the answer to his question. He glanced at her then and held her gaze. She felt herself turning red and she looked away. Man, she was really out of practice. She was slightly alarmed when he suddenly set his razor down and began walking purposefully towards her. She jerked upright and looked at him uneasily. His eyes never left hers as he walked right up to her, then reached to a shelf behind her and took down a bottle of Jack Daniel's Gentleman Jack. He set it next to her and then hesitated, standing way too close to her.  
  
"What're you so nervous about?"  
  
She could smell the soap he had used in the shower and nearly felt his breath on her face. The table prevented her from backing away from him. She swallowed and suddenly felt very warm in her leather jacket.  
  
"Nothing. I'm not nervous."  
  
"You look like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck."  
  
"And you're the truck?" She snorted and stepped sideways a bit. He raised a brow and leaned down, placing his hand on the table behind her so they were eye to eye.  
  
"That depends... are you the deer?"  
  
"Absolutely not!" She glared at him, and the corner of his mouth tugged upwards. He stood straight.  
  
"Relax, Cinderella. If I'd wanted to rape you, I could have taken you when we were locked in that damn bank vault, cuffed together."  
  
"Well, for god's sake, I didn't think you were going to... " She sputtered for a moment before suddenly becoming thoughtful. "You know I still dream about that sometimes. That we're still locked in there..."  
  
"Oh?" He gave her a huge smirk as he walked into the kitchen, and she rolled her eyes.  
  
"Not THAT part, Don Juan! Just being locked inside like we were." She bit her lip as she lied. All that damn tension between them for so many years... and nothing had ever come of it.  
  
"I dream about it too... but in my version, Duke doesn't find us for another couple of hours." He walked back into the living room and handed her a small glass. She took it and gave him a long-suffering glance.  
  
He shrugged and poured whiskey into her glass. "I've been living alone so long even you started to look good."  
  
She grinned at that. That was more like the old Beach. "You have been out here too long."  
  
When he turned to walk back into the kitchen though, she quickly downed the fiery liquid and poured herself another. The heat seeped into her blood and calmed her mind, and she slipped her jacket off, throwing it on a chair. She grabbed her glass and walked into the kitchen after him.  
  
She leaned against one of the narrow counters and sipped her whiskey, studying him over her glass. Clean-shaven once again, he looked like the same old hard-ass straight arrow he had always been. When she had to catch her gaze from running down his chest again though, she wished he'd put a shirt on. Or at least that apron she had mentioned. He took a very sharp looking knife from a drawer and began slicing the meat from the squirrels.  
  
"So why are you really here?" He finally asked without glancing at her. "Besides wanting to try my famous squirrel gravy that is."  
  
"I just... I don't know... you dropped out of sight after...well, after you asked for a discharge. You weren't even at Flint and Lady Jaye's wedding. People are worried about you, Wayne."  
  
He snorted with a derisive laugh and shook his head. "What did I miss? Wreck drinking too many tequila shooters and throwing up all over Flint's mother?"  
  
She grinned. "Actually... it was margaritas and Flint's Aunt Betty. He said he invited you... why didn't you go?"  
  
"Didn't want to. I'd have killed the party anyway." He caught her concerned look and turned to stare at her. "No one needs to worry about me."  
  
Courtney pushed a lock of hair from her eyes and sighed. "I wish you'd have told me that 10 years ago." They stared at each other again, and this time it was Wayne who looked away.  
  
"So, what have you been doing since you got out?" He asked as he turned on a burner under a cast iron skillet on the stove. She watched him with amusement. She'd seen him heating MRE's on the trail plenty of times... but standing in front of a stove cooking, that was a different thing altogether.  
  
"Oh, this and that. I scout shooting locations for some of the bigger photo-based magazines. It's part-time, and I travel on their dime. It pays the bills nicely."  
  
"You quit a job you loved for that?"  
  
"I didn't quit a job I loved. Uncle Sam pulled it out from under me... the same way he did to you and all the other Joes. I quit a job I was settling for."  
  
"You miss it?" He glanced carefully at her. She met his gaze steadily.  
  
"Yeah... do you?"  
  
He didn't answer. He threw the bits of meat in the skillet and they sizzled hotly. He stirred them absently with the tip of the big knife.  
  
"You know... there's talk in Washington of bringing the team back..." She ventured.  
  
"So?" He seemed to stiffen a bit.  
  
"Soo... Flint mentioned that..." She was cut-off as he whirled around and glared at her.  
  
"Goddamn it! I knew it! I knew someone sent you here to 'talk' me out of retirement!" He slammed the knife down, point first, into the wooden counter top and nearly snarled at her. "Well, I don't take orders anymore. You tell those fat desk-Generals to go fuck themselves!"  
  
The venom in his voice startled her, and she instinctively took a step back from him. He seemed a bit startled by that and then regretful. He leaned against the counter and took a deep breath.  
  
"Why... are you here? And don't give me any bullshit, Courtney. I always respected that about you, don't disappoint me now." They stared at each other for a while, and Courtney finally took a stiff swallow of booze and then sighed. She'd come this far...  
  
"You called me." She said simply, staring down at the amber liquid in the glass. There was a long silence and then a sound as Beach Head removed the pan from the burner and set it aside.  
  
"That was two years ago."  
  
"But you called me. It was the night of all the memorial services..." She glanced up and he was leaning against the stove, staring at the floor.  
  
"I left a message. You never called me back." He said quietly.  
  
"I was out of the country. I didn't get the message until I got back. By then... I don't know; it just seemed too late." It sounded lame, even to her. Looking at him now, she realized it hadn't been too late. She'd dropped the ball where he was concerned. "I'm sorry, Wayne. I should have called you back."  
  
He shrugged. "It didn't matter."  
  
"I think it did."  
  
His eyes met hers, and she felt that peculiar shiver that always resulted from that steely-eyed stare he had. He suddenly walked towards her again. She held her ground, and he stepped very close to her, glaring down, as his hand closed over hers, and he took the glass from her hand. His gaze drilled into her with a near laser-like intensity. Her mouth ran dry, and she gave the glass up without a fight. He raised the glass to his mouth and drank the rest of the whiskey in one swallow, his eyes never leaving hers. When he'd finished, he set the glass down on the counter behind her, his arm brushing her shoulder.  
  
"It didn't matter." He insisted firmly.  
  
To be continued.......  
  
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	4. Broken Wings

SALVATION  
  
Chapter 4 ("Broken Wings")  
  
By Slayne  
  
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"And I wonder, when I sing along with you,  
  
If everything could ever feel this real forever?  
  
If anything could ever be this good again?  
  
The only thing I'll ever ask of you...  
  
You've gotta promise not to stop when I say when..."  
  
--Everlong... by The Foo Fighters  
  
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He returned to cooking dinner, and soon they were sitting at the table. He set a plate in front of her that strongly resembled an MRE, and she glanced doubtfully up at him. He smirked as he pulled a T-shirt on and sat down.  
  
"What?" He asked.  
  
"Is this what you eat all the time?" She poked at a chunk of squirrel meat with her fork.  
  
"Nah, but you can only hunt deer certain times of the year, and I never did like fish much."  
  
"You have heard of things called 'supermarkets' haven't you? Wonderful places they are, full of fresh food and frozen pizzas!"  
  
He took a big bite of the concoction and shook his head. "I see your smart- ass attitude hasn't changed with time."  
  
"You expected it to?" She asked, carefully picking a noodle from the mess on the plate.  
  
"Ahh... I thought maybe some hard-ass General would beat it out of you. Hawk always was too soft on you women."  
  
She rolled her eyes, flashing him a smile. He simply leaned back in his chair and studied her.  
  
She hated that his piercing 'drill sergeant's gaze' that he used on rookies still got to her as well. She tasted the noodle on her fork and shrugged. Not bad.  
  
"Did Hawk realize he was supposed to be soft on us women? Because I distinctly remember the sound of his furious rants. I actually still jump and snap-to sometimes when I hear someone barking an order like he did." She stabbed a piece of the squirrel meat and held it up to her eyes, studying it suspiciously.  
  
"Who barks orders like Hawk did? Some French poofball waiter in all those fancy restaurants you go to in Europe?"  
  
She shot him the same long-suffering glance that used to be commonplace between them so long ago. "I still meet plenty of military types even though I went inactive."  
  
He absorbed that with a frown and then leaned down over his dinner, glaring sternly at her. "And... Why would that be, Courtney? What do you really do in Europe?"  
  
She stilled and glanced up at him. Her life had been quite the boring but busy ordeal since she'd left G.I. Joe... but there were occasions...  
  
"I do exactly what I told you I do... but sometimes... I also do, ummm... favors for the U.S. government as well."  
  
"Favors?"  
  
"Nothing too drastic. I just... pass messages on and things like that...."  
  
"'Things like that can get you killed... or put somewhere you don't want to be."  
  
"Wayne..." She gave him 'the look'.  
  
"Forget it... it's your life." He stated, picking up his fork and taking a big bite of the squirrel. She watched him chew for a while before sliding her own fork in her mouth and finally tasting the squirrel. She chewed hungrily at first, the sauce covering the somewhat gamey taste of the meat... but then it hit and she stopped in mid-chew, making a soft noise. Wayne looked up at her.  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"Mmmph..." She opened her jaw behind closed lips, trying to keep the squirrel from touching her taste buds. She grimaced. Wayne cocked an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth jerked upwards.  
  
"You don't look well..." he commented.  
  
She tried to shoot him a dirty look and forced herself to swallow the mouthful of food. "It's not bad."  
  
"Right." He agreed, smiling as he took another bite. She began carefully picking the noodles out from around the chunks of meat.  
  
"So... " He continued as he glanced across the table at her. "You work for Duke then?"  
  
That surprised her. She frowned and looked right at him. "No. Not at all. I've only seen Duke once in the past seven years, and that was a few months ago when he contacted me about possibly coming back to Joe in the future."  
  
"Mm... So Duke's the one who contacted you?"  
  
She shrugged. "Yeah... he was in Spain the same time I was, and we had dinner. Got drunk and hashed over some old times... " She smiled, remembering that night.  
  
"Figures. You always would walk across fire for that guy."  
  
Her eyes shifted back to him. "Rejoining Joe is hardly walking across fire for anyone. It's what I want to do. What I've always wanted to do."  
  
Their eyes held over the table, and Wayne finally set his fork down and looked away, leaning back in his chair.  
  
"So... no wife or girlfriend?" She asked as she glanced around trying to look casual.  
  
He looked at her as if she were nuts. "You thought I somehow became more appealing to the opposite sex when I moved out here and started eating squirrel for dinner every night?"  
  
"Well... I thought maybe you'd met someone before that..."  
  
He breathed deeply and used that piercing gaze on her again. "The last date I had was just before I quit... and the girl ended up crying over dinner when she insisted on talking politics with me, and I pointed out several gaps in her arguments."  
  
Courtney stared at him a moment, the picture sinking in, and then her lips twitched as she tried to hold in a smile.  
  
"Oh yeah," he said dryly. "It was real funny alright. People were trying to comfort her about our 'break up', and she had to tell them it was our first date."  
  
Courtney couldn't hold it in any longer and a laugh burst out of her. "That poor girl! She obviously had no idea what she was getting into with you!" He just shook his head, and she suddenly sobered a bit, feeling a dull ache suddenly streak through her gut as a new thought occurred.  
  
"I'm sorry, Wayne... did you... really like her?" It was difficult to get the words out and she tried to avoid wondering why.  
  
"Nah. I was only doing a friend a favor...If I had really liked her, I probably wouldn't have ranted at her until the second date."  
  
Courtney grinned at him, relaxing in relief. "Well... you could always run the mile down to that little road and kidnap yourself a jogger!"  
  
He stood to pick up their plates and gave her a placating look. "Yeah, that's it... start up with the redneck jokes again. I thought you came up here to be civil to me?" He picked up her plate and gave it a meaningful glance, seeing all the leftover squirrel. "This ain't a restaurant... you don't get a doggy bag."  
  
"Thank god." She muttered. He walked the dishes into the kitchen and called back to her as she stood.  
  
"Thought you would have married a prince by now."  
  
She laughed and shook her head. "Princes are lost on me... I spent too many years around the crabby knights."  
  
"Oh, very funny."  
  
She looked wistfully at the bottle of Jack but left it where it was and walked into the kitchen. She didn't need another drink when she had to drive later. She watched as he put the dishes in the sink then followed him as he moved outside onto the porch. The evening was growing cooler still, and the sky was cloudy, the dark bank of clouds in the distance much closer now.  
  
"It's going to storm." He said, glancing out at the sky.  
  
Courtney didn't reply, closing her eyes as she breathed in the cool air. She could smell pine and prairie grass and the hint of far-off rain. It was much nicer than jet fuel and taxi exhaust and old hotel rooms. She luxuriated in it for a long while before opening her eyes to find him watching her. She glanced around the property.  
  
"What do you actually do out here?"  
  
"What do you mean? It's my home. I hunt and cut wood... and think"  
  
"Think? Please don't tell me you chant and meditate in the forest."  
  
He hesitated but glared. "I didn't move out here to chase butterflies and sit on my ass all day!"  
  
Courtney had to laugh at that. He frowned at her, and she laughed harder, leaning back against the porch railing. "Oh god...now that's a funny image! I'm imagining you out in a meadow chasing butterflies with a big net!"  
  
"Well stop it!" He growled.  
  
She stifled the laugh, but grinned broadly at him. He looked irritated and glanced back out at the sky. They were quiet for a while, listening to the birds and the slight sounds of distant thunder.  
  
"I did think you'd be married by now... maybe have kids." He said seriously without looking at her. She chewed her bottom lip for a moment, thinking about that.  
  
"I almost was." She finally answered. That brought his head around like a shot, and he stared at her.  
  
"You were engaged?"  
  
"I was... engaged to be engaged, I guess."  
  
"Who?" He demanded. When she gave him a vexed glance, he re-phrased the question. "I mean... it wasn't anyone from G.I. Joe was it?"  
  
"No. It was a British officer I met in France. We were better friends than lovers though. It didn't last long."  
  
"Officer." He muttered with venom, and she smiled faintly.  
  
"Like I said... the princes are lost on me. I've spent too much time in the field with the jaded knights."  
  
He didn't say anything this time to the comment. He just glanced thoughtfully at her and then out at the darkening skies of the evening.  
  
"Flint said he came out here to offer you a spot on the new team." She stated. He fidgeted a little and kept his eyes carefully on the sky.  
  
"Yeah... they wanted me to train the newbies and get the old school in shape again."  
  
"He said Hawk offered you the Command Sergeant Major position." She watched him carefully. He swallowed hard and said nothing. The breeze picked up, bringing the scent of rain in stronger and he folded his arms over his chest. She sighed.  
  
"I know that's something you've always wanted, Wayne. Why would you refuse that?"  
  
"I have my reasons."  
  
"Flint said he offered you a return to full E-8 without any loss of benefits. You'd pick up right where you left off. No loss of pension, no penalties..."  
  
"Well, Flint's been damn busy telling other people my business, hasn't he?" Wayne turned to give her a warning glare.  
  
"He's concerned about you."  
  
"He has no reason to be."  
  
"Bullshit."  
  
"What?" He looked at her incredulously and she stood up, facing him.  
  
"I said... bullshit!"  
  
"Explain yourself!" He demanded, and the military-like precision of the command wasn't lost on her.  
  
" I realize you had some... trouble on a mission. I know it was difficult, a helicopter went down and men died. But you quit, Wayne! You let it drive you out of the one place you loved and called home!"  
  
"You don't understand!" He growled at her.  
  
"No... I don't! Please explain it to me, because all I see is that you've finally got what you've always wanted within reach and you're fucking it all up!"  
  
"It was fucked two years ago when those men died!" He suddenly shouted at her, his body tense and his eyes trying to stare daggers into hers.  
  
"So you ran away and hid out here?"  
  
"I don't run away from anything!"  
  
"Well... so again we're back to 'bullshit'!" She glared right back at him.  
  
He swore and took a menacing step towards her. She stood still and held his stare. They simply glared at each other for a long, long moment while the thunder grew louder in the distance. Finally, Wayne relaxed and shook his head.  
  
"Nobody's ever been able to draw anger out of me like you can." He said through clenched teeth. Then he grimaced a bit. "Well... you and Wreck."  
  
"What happened on that mission, Beach?" She asked.  
  
He ignored her. "Did Hawk send you here?"  
  
"No. Are you going to tell me what happened and why you're living out here rather than doing the one thing that meant anything in your life?"  
  
"No."  
  
They stared at each other again. This time there was something... raw... behind his gaze; a torrent of base emotions that she suddenly felt nervous about. When the silence stretched on, and a few fat drops of rain began hitting the porch roof, Courtney sighed.  
  
"Then I guess there's nothing left for us to talk about."  
  
He said nothing, and she turned and walked back inside. She walked into the living room and grabbed her jacket from the armchair where she had thrown it when she'd come in. She stopped in her tracks as her eyes fell on the green balaclava lying on a small bookcase next to the chair. She hadn't seen it earlier. She reached out and picked it up. It was definitely one he'd used in Joe. She'd spent enough time staring at it, she should know. That dull ache started in her gut again, and she realized how much she'd missed him all these years: bickering and all. She'd spent so many months wondering how he was and where he was. When she'd finally found out, she'd spent more long months agonizing over whether to come and find him or not. Now she was here... and in a few minutes she'd be gone again.  
  
The screen door slammed, and she quickly put the balaclava back on the shelf and stood straight. He walked slowly into the doorway.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Home. I have work in a few days... and Duke said to be ready for a call at any time."  
  
"It's storming out. You aren't going anywhere."  
  
She raised her brows at him. "Excuse me? I'm not going anywhere? The best driver in G.I. Joe can't drive in a little rain?"  
  
He held his hands up placatingly. "Best driver or not... the roads on this mountain are wicked when it rains. It's been raining for days, and it's storming hard up the mountain. That means the roads down here are going to be flooded long before the storm starts to get nasty here."  
  
She felt the old annoyance bite her at his words. She was upset that he wouldn't explain anything to her, and even more upset that he wouldn't come back to the team. She brushed by him.  
  
"I'm sure I'll be fine. The Dakota can handle anything."  
  
"Courtney..." He grabbed her arm, and she glared at him. He loosened his fingers a bit, but didn't let her go. "I'm serious... the road is probably already flooded, and it's too dangerous to cross."  
  
She jerked her arm from his grasp. "Well, you certainly knew that was going to happen earlier, didn't you? You're the one who said it was going to storm! Why didn't you say something then?"  
  
He looked a bit taken aback. "I..."  
  
"Oh!" She felt her temper flaring, and felt almost helpless to stop it. "I get it! You thought maybe if you got me here for the night, you'd get a repeat of the vault? Is that it?"  
  
"What?" He was beginning to look angry again too.  
  
"Well, forget it! Rain or not... I've driven the worst vehicles in the worst weather! I can handle a little country road!" She began stalking towards the door. He followed calmly.  
  
"I'm telling you, Courtney... it's not passable in a storm."  
  
"Ummm... let's see... have you heard the word 'bullshit' tonight?"  
  
They walked out onto the porch. The rain was coming down heavier now, and a clap of thunder rolled almost directly overhead.  
  
"Have it your way... but I'm going to end up hauling that nice new truck out of the side of the mountain if you try it."  
  
She snorted and glanced back at him. "Goodbye Wayne."  
  
He said nothing. He just stood on the step, under the roof, and watched her go. She walked through the rain, and slid into the Dakota, slamming the door shut behind her. She started it up immediately and then hesitated. The rain thrummed down on the hood and the roof, and the rivulets of water ran down the windshield, blurring her view of the house and the dark shape that still stood on the porch. For a moment, she felt a nearly irresistible desire to stay. She hadn't gotten her fill yet. She hadn't looked at him enough, hadn't been able to say what she wanted to say. Then she saw the way he had his arms folded over his chest as he watched her, and she glared. She threw the truck into reverse and backed off the gravel driveway.  
  
He didn't move from the porch, and she watched him in the rearview mirror when she drove away. She sighed and concentrated on her driving. The ruts were muddier than they had been, of course, and now had standing water in them. The branches on either side of her, weighted down with water, scraped all along the sides of the truck. The rain pelted the roof, and mud from the tires splashed all the way up onto the windshield. The tires spun and often failed to find traction even in four-wheel drive. As she came out to the fork at the top of the hill, she was beginning to seriously believe Wayne's words about the road. A few more feet down the road, all doubt was swept from her mind as she slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop in front of a raging river of floodwater. The little trickle of water she had driven through on the way up was now a broad and wild torrent. She stared at it in amazement through the windshield wipers.  
  
"Holy shit..."  
  
For a brief moment she thought about trying it anyway... but the mechanic in her nixed that idea right away. The Dakota wasn't THAT modified. Once the water entered the tailpipe of the truck... or got into the engine compartment, it would stall... and then it'd flow right down the mountain, with or without her in it. She knew she had to turn back. The fact that she felt strangely happy about that disturbed her.  
  
When she drove back up onto the gravel slab in front of the house, he was still there. She turned the engine off and sat there for a moment, staring at him through the rain covered glass. The longer she waited, the worse it would be, she knew. Still... she hesitated a bit longer.  
  
He stared at her from the steps of the porch for a few minutes longer and then stepped casually into the rain and walked towards the truck.  
  
"Ahhh shit... " She swore softly, suddenly wanting to give that raging floodwater another try rather than face him. She watched him walk up to the truck. He reached out and opened the door. She stared straight ahead, hearing the amusement in his voice as he spoke.  
  
"Are you, uh... staying out here all night?"  
  
She reached back and grabbed her overnight bag then turned abruptly and slid out of the truck, brushing by him.  
  
"Shut up." She muttered, stalking back towards the house. She could hear him chuckling as he closed the truck door and followed her.  
  
To be continued......  
  
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	5. Retrospect

SALVATION  
  
Chapter 5 ("Retrospect")  
  
By Slayne  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"My heart is drenched in wine,  
  
You'll be on my mind...  
  
Forever... "  
  
-- Don't Know Why -- Norah Jones  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"You remember the day Hawk lowered the flag on base and Joe?" Wayne asked, looking out the living room window and over the forest as the rain pelted down. There'd been an initial silence, after they'd gotten back inside, as Courtney had brooded, and then they had finally begun talking again. He'd offered her his bed, which she'd refused and he hadn't insisted. He'd gotten her a few blankets and thrown them on the sofa next to her, and she'd settled down quite comfortably as they talked.  
  
"Yeah..." Courtney felt that same dark weight press down on her that she felt that day long ago, a remnant that would never truly leave her. Cobra had been driven so far down that Joe wasn't needed anymore, they should have been happy. Instead, the somber mood had been almost unbearable. They'd all joked with each other, exchanged numbers and promises to keep in touch. Enemies had made up and everyone was friends, wanting to leave the team in good standing. She had avoided Beach Head that day. She hadn't planned on doing that. It just turned out that everytime she came face to face with him during the closing, she just hadn't been able to make herself stand there and talk to him. She'd just been consumed with this overwhelming desire to get away from him.  
  
As the day had grown longer though, and other Joes began catching their planes out or driving away for the last time, she'd somehow found herself with him alone in the empty motor pool. They'd talked about where they were each going. He was going back to Fort Benning, she was taking some leave time and going home for a while to think about things. The awkward silences and long stares had only made her more desperate to not lose touch with him. They'd been through a lot together, and no matter how hard they fought, they had been a united front when it really counted. And then there was all that... other stuff. For some reason, she still hadn't been able to admit to herself that she was attracted to him that day. In fact, it had seemed of the utmost importance that she NOT face that fact. Perhaps because they were seperating, and she had already had some inkling that the Army was not in her future without G.I. Joe... and he'd never be happy without the military. If there was ever a man born to be a soldier, well, Beach was him. But to never see him again? Hell no.  
  
She'd handed him a card with the number of an answering service she used. It was useful for someone who often had to disappear for days or weeks at a time with no notice. It guaranteed that she'd get all messages meant for her. It had also had her parent's home number written on it, just in case. He'd tucked it in his shirt pocket with a muttered 'thanks' and then pulled out a small, folded piece of scratch paper with his own number printed carefully on it. He'd obviously been intending to give it to someone. She'd taken it, and their eyes had met, and the fire betweem them had been incredible. She'd attempted to diffuse it with a wise-ass comment.  
  
"Well, you're finally getting rid of that big pain in your ass... what'll you do without me?"  
  
"Live without the fear of imminent court-martial over my head from all the stupid stunts you pulled me into."  
  
She'd laughed. She'd had to. She could already feel the tears threatening, and she didn't want to cry in front of him. They weren't necessarily tears for him, although he'd been a part of it. They were tears for an entire phase of her life that was over now, and not through her own choice.  
  
"Besides, " He'd continued, somewhat hesitantly. "If you're stationed stateside, well... we both have leave saved up, maybe... you'll find someway to annoy me."  
  
She'd smiled and blinked rapidly to keep those damn tears at bay. "Yeah... maybe. You ever think of just doing your 20 and getting out, Wayne?"  
  
He'd stared at her for a long time after that question. When he had finally answered, her breath had caught in her throat before she realized she'd been holding it.  
  
"No. I'm in for life. With any luck I'll die a fucking glorious death and never be retired."  
  
There hadn't seemed to be much to say after that. She'd embraced him with an awkward hug that turned almost clingy at the end, and they had pulled back reluctantly. The growing sound of helicopter rotors in the distance signaled his ride out of there, and he had broken their gaze and turned to walk out. She'd called his name right before he went out the door, and he had turned to look at her.  
  
"You can't fight forever, Beach." She'd said seriously. He'd given her that famous glare and the corner of his mouth had tugged upwards in such a familiar gesture that she'd smiled a bit. The four words he answered were in a strong southern accent with power behind them.  
  
"The hell ah can't."  
  
That had been it. He'd walked out and got on his helicopter. She'd followed several hours later, taking a civilian flight to Chicago. Despite the exchange of numbers, they hadn't spoken since that day. She'd heard his voice twice since then. Once on tv, as some reporter had asked him how he had felt burying 7 of his fellow Rangers, although his answer had had so many word-covering bleeps in it that it was difficult to actually hear anything he said. The second time had been on her voice mail through the answering service. He hadn't actually said a whole lot really, and there had been a lot of long pauses where she could almost feel the tension in him.  
  
"Hey Courtney... this is Wayne, ahh... just uh, thought you might be in and ahh... thought I'd give you a call. It's been a while. I guess you know what's been happening with me, it's all over the news today...shit, I really fucked up, Courtney." There was a long pause there where she could hear him breathing and then he swore softly and said "Call me back." And then came the click as he hung up.  
  
She hadn't called him back. She'd been in Europe when it was all happening, and she hadn't gotten the message until the following week when she got home. She'd pressed the code to repeat that message nearly 15 times before she'd finally hung up and sat quietly in a chair next to the phone in her Chicago apartment. Her first instinct, of course, had been to pick up the phone and call him immediately, but her hand wouldn't move. She'd gotten up and walked to her bedroom, pulled out the old brown flight jacket and unzipped the inside lining pocket, pulling the folded piece of paper out of it. She'd stared at the number for a long time, her heart in her throat and her gut feeling as if were filled with lead. Then her pager had gone off, and she'd simply tucked the paper back in the pocket and walked away. She'd justified it to herself by saying it was too late anyway. It had been over a week since the original call. He'd doubtlessly gone back to his duties and was over it by now. Could she have been more of an idiot in denial? No. She'd pretty much always been good at that.  
  
It was at Flint and Lady Jaye's wedding that she'd found out the truth. She'd been expecting to see him at the wedding, had been looking forward to it even more than seeing Allie or Shana or any of the other Joes, if she were to be honest with herself. When he hadn't appeared by the time the dancing started, she'd finally asked Leatherneck where he was. Wendell had stared at her in surprise for a moment and then he'd disappeared. Duke had appeared a few minutes later and given it to her straight. Beach Head had asked for a general discharge when his term was up last, and he'd moved back to Alabama. A few of the guys had tracked him down living up in the hills alone.  
  
Simple living, no companionship, giving up the job he loved... if the Army wouldn't punish him, he'd just do it himself. She'd been shocked to hear all this. As the wedding band had played and the former Joes had danced, everyone else in the big hall had ceased to exist. She'd stared ahead in stunned silence, the music the only thing she heard. She'd finally left early and taken a taxi to the airport. As the cab radio had played a litany of eighties songs and "Under the Milky Way" by The Church had seared through her mind, she'd not been able to think about anything else. She'd almost traded in her return ticket for Chicago and bought one for Birmingham instead. A loud crack of thunder brought her out of the past and into the present again.  
  
"Wayne?" She said suddenly, glancing up at him as he stood at the window.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You're right... I don't understand what happened to you. I wish you'd tell me, but if you can't..."  
  
He glanced back at her in the dimness of the room. "I just... don't see the point."  
  
"All I know is what Flint told me... and what I saw on TV... and the press was pretty idiotic about it all."  
  
"Yeah... they wouldn't take 'no comment' for an answer." He looked grim as the lightning flashed and lit up the room. The storm had intensified and beat furiously at the forest outside.  
  
"They wouldn't leave you alone?"  
  
"Not at first. The brass wanted me to do all the talk shows. I was supposed to be a 'good sport' about it all."  
  
Courtney frowned at that. She was used to attention, had learned how to handle it... but Beach never had been good at that. And she was sure there was so much more that had gone on then was revealed in the press. He'd been dealing with something heavy during that time... was still dealing with it. He glanced at her with a small smile on his face.  
  
"But it all stopped... abruptly. I mean, from one day to the next it simply ceased. Like... "  
  
She raised a brow. "Like... a Tomahawk suddenly came down on their heads?"  
  
His smile broadened. "Exactly like that."  
  
She grinned. "God... I love that man!"  
  
He said nothing, but she saw the agreement on his face. He stared out the window a bit longer, and then turned to look at her. "Get some sleep, Cinderella... you'll need those looks if you change your mind about those princes." He turned out the light and started towards his bedroom door.  
  
"Wayne." She stopped him just before he went through the door. "I dropped the ball with you... I'm sorry."  
  
He looked at her a long, silent moment, and then replied softly. "No. If anyone dropped the ball... it was me."  
  
She was about to argue with him, but he walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind him, leaving her in the darkness alone. She sat for a while, then got up, changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and climbed under the blankets of the sofa. She tried not to think about him laying in his bed on the other side of one thin wall. The rain lulled her to sleep.  
  
To be continued.........  
  
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	6. Blood

SALVATION  
  
Chapter 6 ("Blood... ")  
  
By Slayne  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
LZ = Landing Zone  
  
WIA = Wounded in Action  
  
LT = Lieutenant  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"I lay awake on a long, dark night. I can't seem to tame my mind.  
  
Slings and arrows are killing me inside.  
  
Maybe I can't accept the life that's mine.  
  
Maybe I can't accept the life that's mine.  
  
Simple living is my desperate cry. Been trading love with indifference,  
  
yeah, it suits me just fine. I try to hold on, but I'm calloused to the bone.  
  
Maybe that's why I feel alone.  
  
Maybe that's why I feel so alone.  
  
Me, I'm rusted and weathered, Barely holding together,  
  
I'm covered with skin that peels , And it just won't heal..."  
  
--Weathered .... by Creed  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
The sound of the helicopters was growing louder. He could see the cloth- swathed men tied on the floor of the small house as the dust swept up outside and his men started out. Some of them were yelling at him as they went. He saw their faces, eyes bright and intense, mouths moving in slow motion. He couldn't hear what they were saying though. He could only hear those landing helicopters and then... the single chattering voice of one of the enemy soldiers, speaking in a different language. Wayne's gaze swung around to target the man, and he found the foreign soldier grinning at him as he laughed spitefully and spoke.  
  
Someone grabbed his sleeve and he followed his men outside, watching as they loaded into the Blackhawks and began taking off. He knew what happened next, and he balked... actually trying to stop running towards the LZ. As hands grabbed him again, trying to force him forwards, he tried to yell orders at the men. His voice didn't want to work, they didn't understand. He glanced back towards the house. The doorway was empty. Maybe they'd checked it good enough this time... maybe it'd be different. The hands pulled him further, and he struggled violently with them, trying to explain. A movement caught his eye, and he looked up at the house again in the swirl of dust from the rotors of the Blackhawks.  
  
An enemy soldier charged from the house, and Wayne felt his heart drop. No! No, no, no! The hands that once tried to force him forward, now held him back. When the explosion came... he screamed.  
  
^^^^^^  
  
Courtney's eyes flew open as she woke, her heart racing as she stared through the darkness. For a moment she was confused, and then she remembered where she was. The rain was steady and soothing on the roof, and the house was quiet. She listened carefully for a moment. There was a faint sudden sound. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked towards Beach's bedroom door. She heard the sound again. A soft, deep exclamation that made her brows knit together and started a thread of worry through her mind. She rose quietly and walked in barefoot to the door. She heard the sound again. It was definitely Wayne... she'd know his voice anywhere. She also knew now what the sound was and why he was making it... she had experience in this area herself. She hesitated, wondering if she should interfere, but then she quietly opened the door, stepping warily into his room.  
  
He was lying on the bed, tangled in a sheet. He was shirtless; wearing boxer briefs, and one bare, lightly haired thigh was uncovered. It flexed in power as his body seemed to try and force itself up off the bed. Sweat and his old dog tags gleamed on his chest, and his head arched back in sleep as he suddenly began reciting the same word over and over, his speech muffled and indistinct.  
  
"No... nononononono...."  
  
She swallowed hard, and walked further into the room. With the exception of Hawk, she had always seen this man as the strongest and most unyielding rock of the team. The one who would never have a problem with what he did. The one who always had the strength of his convictions firmly in place.  
  
Not the one who had nightmares and cried out in his sleep.  
  
Human after all.  
  
"Wayne." She spoke softly, calling to him. He seemed to hesitate a moment in his agitation, and then he began thrashing again. It was a bad one, and she suddenly wanted him back from wherever he was... safe with her.  
  
"Wayne!" She spoke a bit louder, sharpening her voice to 'command mode'. She leaned forward and grabbed his foot as well, giving it a shake.  
  
He jerked awake and inhaled sharply, every muscle in his body flexing violently. She quickly stepped backwards. She'd spent a lot of years around combat soldiers, she knew the nightmares intimately and the disoriented sense of danger that followed a sudden awakening. His body was rigid for long moments as his gaze traveled around the room and then fastened onto her. He swallowed hard before relaxing suddenly and sitting up, pulling the tangled sheet from his legs and throwing it to the side.  
  
"Sorry..." He muttered before swinging his legs off the bed and standing stiffly.  
  
"It's ok... you alright?"  
  
"Yeah." He walked in the darkness to the window and braced his hands on the sill, hanging his head briefly while he woke up and gained control. She watched him for a while, feeling senseless relief that he wasn't lost forever in that nightmare. Thunder rumbled outside. The lightning flickered across his face and bare torso, revealing his pained expression before casting his form into shadow again. He yanked the window up slightly, and the rain got louder as the cool air rushed into the room. He breathed deeply and relaxed a bit more.  
  
She padded barefoot across the floor and stood beside him, her arm brushing his as she looked through the open slats of the blind over the window. There was a single light shining from the gravel driveway and she could see the dark shapes of the forest trees through the torrent of water hitting the window.  
  
"Do you dream about the bullets?" She asked very softly, her voice nearly a whisper. He glanced up at her, confused.  
  
"What?"  
  
She continued to stare out the window. "I do. I dream about the bullets. I feel them hitting me, feel them going through and into me... bouncing around and tearing stuff up. I feel the blood running down my skin..."  
  
"No... No bullets." He breathed. He was staring at her silently, his attention unwavering. She hugged herself around the waist and didn't glance at him as she continued.  
  
"I don't feel any pain though. Just the bullets hitting me and the blood running. Vipers are everywhere, but everything I throw at them goes right through... like they're ghosts. I know I'm taking too many shots; I can't survive. I'm going to die... and it scares the shit out of me. I never thought about it much when I was fighting in Joe. I wasn't scared like I am in the dreams."  
  
His eyes glinted in another lightning strike as she fell silent, and he made a soft sound of understanding. His voice was still quiet and deep with sleep when he spoke. "When I dream about Joe, I'm running through the bullets. I can hear them flying past me, but they don't touch me..." He hesitated, and Courtney could see that he was staring out at the rain without really seeing it. The moment was too intimate, both of them standing here in the dark, alone, spilling their dreams. For one brief moment she felt like running away again, and then she realized that that was exactly what she'd been doing for the past seven years. Running away from him, from her feelings for him. Why? Because they didn't belong together? Or because everyone had always told her that they didn't belong together. That brief thought sparked another one... that there was nowhere she wanted to be more than here right now.  
  
She suddenly felt more comfortable and confident, and she folded her arms loosely across her chest and leaned sideways against Beach, leaning her head against his shoulder. He glanced at her sharply in surprise, and then relaxed and continued talking as if nothing had happened.  
  
"I'm always walking through the battle, shooting is always going on around me... but I never see anyone else. I'm walking through..." His voice trailed off, and Courtney felt him move uneasily.  
  
"Through what?" She asked, smelling the rain strongly as a cool breeze rushed in through the window.  
  
"Through bodies." He answered grimly. "I know it's the rest of the team. I'm the only one left. The bodies all run together, but I can see the little things in the blood. Scarlett's crossbow, Snake's visor, Flint's beret..."  
  
"Do you see me?" She asked.  
  
He fidgeted again, and the backs of his fingers brushed hers then stayed. "I look for you. I look for that jacket, but I..." He stopped again, and she felt a bit alarmed as he pulled back from her and suddenly sank down to his heels beside her, his hands coming up to run over his face before he rested his elbows on his knees. He made a soft sound before he braced his forehead on his hands and stared down at the floor.  
  
She folded her arms over her chest as the rain-drenched breeze curled around her legs. She looked down at the broad back, watching as his hands ran through the neat crew cut.  
  
"You weren't dreaming about Joe tonight were you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"What the hell happened over there, Wayne? Tell me..."  
  
"You saw the news. You know the story."  
  
"I know their story. I want to know yours. I should have listened two years ago..."  
  
His head turned slightly in the darkness, and she heard him swallowing. The air seemed charged with energy for a moment before he spoke. "Why didn't you call me back, Courtney?"  
  
She opened her mouth to answer him, the same old excuses she'd been repeating to herself, for her own peace of mind, ready to spill forth. As the lightning lit his face up again though, and their eyes met, she closed her mouth and stood quietly.  
  
"You want some truth from me, then you need to make a trade." He said resentfully. She stared down at him, feeling as if she stood at the edge of a river. Backing away would mean traveling in safety, the same old path she'd been taking for years. He stood on the other side though, asking her to jump in and swim with him. And that path would burn hotter and twist her around more completely than any other she'd ever taken. Nor did she feel at all assured of coming out of that river in one piece.  
  
She slowly lowered herself to her heels beside him, her arms folded between her knees and her chest as she looked at him. She took a deep breath.  
  
"I don't know why I didn't call, Wayne. I... I had the phone in one hand and your number in the other... and I couldn't make my fingers dial your number. Then my pager went off, and I jumped up and ran out. I kept putting it off, telling myself that you were fine and you'd probably gotten over it long ago."  
  
That brought a soft snort of acidic laughter from him, and she grimaced, feeling a sharp guilt stab through her conscience. "I fucked up, Wayne. I let you down because I was too terrified of my own feelings... I'm sorry. You were the one Joe I always counted on to have my back... and I didn't cover yours this time... but I'm here now."  
  
The room was silent for a few long minutes while the storm raged on outside. She heard rain dripping onto the floor. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly again.  
  
"They sent us into Borislav for a straight-forward seek and destroy mission on a communications tower..." His voice was low and quiet and he sounded as if he were forcing the words out. Courtney almost held her breath as he hesitated and then went on.  
  
"You know what the political climate was like then with them. The U.S. had vested interests in them, and their ever-changing regime was playing havoc with a lot of our economy. We really wanted to just go in and take it all over. Set it all to rights, but... the UN and the American public were all against that. So, it was just supposed to be a quick covert mission to stack the deck in our favor a little..." He trailed off there, staring at the wall without seeing it. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed repeatedly across his face. Courtney couldn't stop the feeling of dread settling in her stomach, and she suddenly found herself leaning forward, knees on the floor, sliding her arms under his arms and up over his shoulders, her cheek resting against his nape. He seemed startled and stiffened for a moment.  
  
"Go on..." She urged, and he accepted their new position without another thought and continued.  
  
"We went in with 15. Two Blackhawks took us and our gear in after dark, and would take us out again at dawn from a pre-determined LZ. We weren't expecting any resistance. In fact, Intel told us that there were no enemy soldiers in the area at all. They weren't supposed to have enough troops to cover every essential area...."  
  
Courtney frowned. She hadn't heard that on the news, but that wasn't surprising.  
  
"Intel was wrong?" She asked. His skin was warm and still smelled like soap despite the sweat that had been there only a short time ago. She felt his voice rumbling through his back when he spoke. Cool air and a few cold drops of rain flowed down over them and Courtney shivered again slightly. She felt his hands run up her arms to her hands, and he forced them down over his chest and then tightly around him, so she was pulled closely and warmly against him. She closed her eyes, holding him tightly, and pressing her lips absently against the clipped hair at his nape.  
  
"Not really," he answered, his voice sounding a bit stronger. "We made it to the tower, set the charges and made it nearly out again... it all went according to plan. But when we approached the retrieval LZ, we suddenly took fire."  
  
"The news said you were fired on and that the officer in charge went WIA."  
  
"The Lieutenant in charge took a bullet in the thigh. He hit his head hard when he fell, and even with the helmet, it rang his bell a bit. We got him out of there, but I had to call the shots from then on."  
  
"You probably had more combat experience than he did anyway, Wayne."  
  
"Yeah... we were working together pretty well though. I drew everyone back, and we re-grouped. We figured out that it was a bunch of government- armed civilians set up as a poorly trained defense force. Probably drawing extra food and supplies for their families in trade..."  
  
"What?" She suddenly drew back and knelt beside him, looking at him in shock. "The news said it was one of Borislav's elite Special Forces teams!"  
  
Wayne raised a brow at her and nodded, sliding back to sit on the floor and lean back against his bed. "That's what the news agencies reported... and the brass never corrected them."  
  
Courtney thought about that a moment, suddenly getting a feeling about where the story was going. She slid up beside him, stretching her legs out as she leaned back beside him. His thigh was warm against hers, and she leaned into him a bit.  
  
"They were well-armed, but poorly trained. They flocked together and we ended up killing two of them before capturing the rest easily. We disarmed them, tied them up and left them in one of the nearby houses. The LT suggested to me that maybe we should... get rid of them... and I..." He stared up at the window, the shadows of the raindrops running over his face. Courtney sat up beside him and looked at him.  
  
"Did he order you to kill them?"  
  
"No. He mentioned it to me. Wanted to know what I thought. He didn't know I used to be with G.I. Joe... but he knew I wasn't a normal Ranger. He knew I'd seen more combat than anyone else on the team."  
  
"And?" She felt breathless as she waited.  
  
"And I said we should leave them tied and unharmed. They were just civilians... half of them dropped their guns and gave up when the first man was shot. We weren't supposed to engage the enemy unless forced."  
  
"Well, it sounds like you were forced..."  
  
"I think he wanted to disagree with me... but he was losing blood fast, and I don't think he felt clear-headed. He gave the decision to me..."  
  
She didn't realize she had taken his hand until she saw his eyes shift towards where her hand gripped his. His fingers slowly closed around hers and his gaze bored into her for a long moment.  
  
"I ordered them left alive, and we went out to meet the Blackhawks at the landing zone."  
  
His grip on her hand had tightened almost painfully as his voice dropped, and she nearly winced. She used her other hand to pry his fingers loose from her hand, and he glanced at her almost dazedly.  
  
"Sorry," he whispered, releasing her hand. He set both hands on top of his thighs and folded them into fists. "I ordered half the team into the first Blackhawk and told them to take the LT with them. He needed more than a medic and quickly. When they were loaded, they lifted off. I was giving orders to the radioman, when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. It was just a small thing. I thought it was a bird or something flying into the helicopter... and then I realized what it was... just as the first Blackhawk exploded and then dropped right out of the air... "  
  
Courtney let out the breath she was holding and inhaled sharply again. "Jesus, Wayne..."  
  
"I turned around and there was one of the civilian soldiers in the doorway of the house... with a rocket propelled grenade launcher in his hands. He'd gotten loose and... They must have had weapons hidden in there somewhere good, because we searched every inch of that house... I know we did."  
  
Courtney was speechless. She kept silent and just looked at him in the darkness. He wasn't there with her anyway... he was far away.  
  
"No one survived. I just looked at the wreckage falling to the ground... and I felt numb. I just raised my gun and pumped the man full of bullets. One of the Sergeants threw a grenade through the window of the house and took care of the rest. I took him in with me to secure the house afterwards, and they were all dead." He smiled almost ferociously and looked at her.  
  
"Seven Rangers and two Blackhawk pilots dead... and the civilians died anyway. If I'd have just killed them to begin with... " He swallowed and shook his head, suddenly blinking rapidly. Courtney placed a hand over his fist and studied him almost ruefully.  
  
"If you'd have just killed them to begin with... then you wouldn't be who you are. You've killed before, Wayne... you know, better than most, that it's nothing to take lightly."  
  
He didn't look at her. He sniffed, wiped angrily at his eyes and swallowed. "I'd trade every worthless life in that fucked up country just to bring back those nine men... I mean it."  
  
"I know," she said softly, feeling an ache in her chest as she watched him battle his inner demons. "I'm sorry. You did what you felt was right though..."  
  
"But it wasn't right. If I'd have done any of a dozen things differently, this might not have happened."  
  
"We all have things we have to live with. Some of us have to bear more than others."  
  
"I don't want to live with it." He said in a whisper. "It's tearing me up inside. It won't heal."  
  
"That's why you quit?"  
  
He seemed disturbed by that word. He grimaced slightly when she said it, and she saw the former soldier in him, the one who hated slackers and despised quitters and let everyone know about it. He seemed to be thinking about how to answer that question, when she remembered something else.  
  
"Didn't you get the Bronze Star for that mission?"  
  
He stilled and his eyes slid sideways to stare at her. "We all did." He said stiffly.  
  
"Flint said you talked to Hawk about it. That you wanted to refuse it, and they forced you to accept it."  
  
He was silent for a moment, and then he stretched towards the night table next to his bed, pulling open the small drawer, which squeaked in protest from disuse. He pulled a small box from it and returned to his former position. He handed it to her. She took it, glancing at him as he looked away. She opened it and looked down at the medal inside.  
  
"When we got back, we were debriefed and the press had already picked up the story and made their own assumptions on the mission... or else someone fed them wrong information. The story came out as foreign enemy elite troops fire upon a Ranger training mission and blow up a Blackhawk. The public outcry was huge and approval for military action suddenly went sky- high. The brass jumped on it. No one corrected the story and we were given medals and a big party... after the funerals, of course."  
  
Courtney traced the small star-shaped medal with the pad of one finger. "What did Hawk say about all of this?"  
  
"I only saw him briefly at the funerals. They kept me pretty far from him. He said sometimes there were forces bigger than us in the world... and that sometimes they were going to get their way. We needed to pick our battles carefully."  
  
She looked up at that and nodded thoughtfully. Hawk knew how to play the game. He always had. It was harder for men like Beach, who saw things more black and white and didn't see those subtle shades of gray so easily.  
  
"What did he say when you quit?" She asked curiously.  
  
"I don't think he knew. I just quietly resigned when my tour was up and moved out here. Gung-Ho tracked me down about a year ago.... then Flint came up a few months ago and delivered Hawk's offer, which I refused."  
  
She carefully took the medal from its box and held it up in the dim light from the window. The ribbon gleamed, and the metal star seemed to glow. Beach glanced at it and then looked quickly away. She frowned.  
  
"You know, you've earned this medal a million times over again with your time in Joe, Wayne. None of the public, or even those Generals, realize how much you've actually done for this country."  
  
"I didn't get it for my time in Joe." He replied quietly. "I got it for Borislav... and with the blood of nine good men."  
  
"Have you even touched it?" She asked.  
  
"I had to take it off... I touched it then."  
  
She placed it back in its box, fixing it firmly on the velvet before snapping it shut and leaning over him to place it back in it's drawer. He sat quieter with it out of sight again. They sat and stared at each other.  
  
"We need you back in Joe, Wayne." She finally said. "You can't let those assholes end your career like this. Don't waste away here picking that wound open again and again. You don't need to ask for redemption... but if you can't see that, then redeem yourself by saving the same clueless country that your friends were serving. And if you don't give a shit about that... then come back to the people who care about you. Keep our asses safe and in line again."  
  
He seemed to give her words thought, but then he shook his head and climbed to his feet. He shut the window against the cool, rainy, night air, and then he walked out of the room. She rose to her feet as well, and went to stand at the window, watching the lightning as it lit up the sky and the forest below.  
  
To be continued.......  
  
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	7. And Fire

SALVATION  
  
Chapter 7 ("... and Fire")  
  
By Slayne  
  
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"Oh yeah, we meet again  
  
It's like we never left  
  
Time in between was just a dream  
  
Did we leave this place?  
  
This crazy fog surrounds me  
  
You wrap your legs around me  
  
All I can do to try and breathe... "  
  
-- The Dolphin's Cry... by Live  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"I'm not ready to go back." He said from behind her as he walked back into the room. She turned to see him carrying the bottle of whiskey and a cup from an old mess kit. He sat on the edge of the bed and poured a couple of fingers into the cup. She watched as he swallowed a good-sized mouthful and grimaced a bit. His two swallows of alcohol today were probably more than he'd had all year. If Borislav hadn't driven him to drink... then nothing could. He held the cup out to her, and she walked forward to take it. She, on the other hand, had had plenty to drink in the past year... especially on those long, dark nights when she was alone, and the urge to take out that old piece of paper and pick up the phone grew too great. What a waste of time it had all been. What had she been so afraid of?  
  
"Gung-Ho brought this with him." Wayne grinned faintly, capping the bottle again and looking down at it. "Drank half of it himself too. Guess he thought it'd loosen me up."  
  
Courtney snorted and almost sprayed her mouthful of whiskey all over the room. Wayne looked up sharply at her.  
  
"What the hell's the matter with you?"  
  
She wiped the amber liquid from her mouth and chin and smiled. "The fact that Etienne even thought you COULD loosen up... that's pretty funny! You and he always seemed to understand each other pretty well."  
  
"Yeah? Well, he also enjoyed my cooking. He didn't waste good squirrel."  
  
"I've seen the man eat snake on long missions in the bush... squirrel probably tasted like filet mignon to him."  
  
He gave her a dismissive glance and shook his head.  
  
She sipped the burning liquor and sighed as they looked at each other grimly. In the darkness, his nearly bare body was a sculpted work of light and shadow. He still looked every bit the hardened soldier, from the thick muscles to the glaring eyes. She could self-consciously feel his gaze running over her as well. The thin cotton shorts she wore fit snugly and her soft and worn ARMY T-shirt was a bit too large, although she wore nothing beneath it. He looked at her with appreciation, the way he always had. Not hungrily, the way some men did... or wistfully, the way most men did. He had always simply looked at her with direct appreciation and then growled at her in the next moment... as if her looks had meant nothing to him at all. In fact, she was quite sure they hadn't. He wasn't intimidated by her, wasn't tongue-tied by her beauty, he certainly wasn't going to let her wrap him around her finger, and he had never once acted as if she was out of his league. He had let her be herself... and she hadn't realized how much she had grown used to that until she was out of the service, and he was gone.  
  
"Why did you come here tonight?" He asked suddenly.  
  
"I didn't know you were out of the Army until I got to Flint and Jaye's wedding. When I found out... I don't know... I just... I couldn't do anything else until I found you and we talked."  
  
"If you're thinking that I wouldn't have quit if you had only called... then don't... I was gone the moment that Blackhawk went down."  
  
"Why'd you call me then, Wayne?"  
  
He hesitated for a moment before letting his breath out slowly. He looked up at her tiredly as she set the empty mess cup down on the windowsill and then stepped closer to him, so she could see his face better.  
  
"I don't know...I just...I was tired...I wanted to talk to you..."  
  
"We hadn't talked for years. Why did we do that?"  
  
He shook his head, and she felt his hands move to set against the outsides of her thighs lightly, pulling her to stand between his knees.  
  
"I needed to think. You don't..." He sighed. "You accept me as I am...and I..." He was having a hard time getting his thoughts out and she felt a brief sense of worry for him. He just wasn't like this usually. His hands suddenly gripped her waist and he looked up at her, pulling her closer between his thighs.  
  
"Wayne...are you alright?" She murmured worriedly. The intimacy of the moment was getting to her again, and yet... it also seemed so... comfortable.  
  
"No..." He closed his eyes briefly and then glanced up at her. She bit her lower lip and looked down at him. Her hand came up to trace his jaw gingerly.  
  
"You're hurting..."  
  
He suddenly and slowly slid his arms around her waist and hugged her to him, pressing the side of his face against her flat stomach.  
  
"...I missed you." It was all he said, but the weariness and pain in those words burnt her to the core. She stared down at him in surprise. Jesus...he'd never done something like this before.  
  
"I missed you too," she said softly. "Even your hellish PT sessions..." She joked a bit in the growing tension. Old habits die hard.  
  
He ignored her words and exhaled deeply. "I just wanted to hear your voice."  
  
She was stunned. Her discomfort and desire to joke it all away disappeared, as his unguarded pain surrounded her and soaked deep. His arms tightened around her waist as if he expected her to back away from him. She hesitated and then one hand slid over his shoulders and the fingers of her other hand slid through the short, neat auburn crew cut, pulling him close and stroking his hair comfortingly. He made a soft sound and his weight rested forward against her as he relaxed. He turned his head slightly into her and she heard him inhale deeply. She smoothed the hair at his temple, feeling an incredible tension stirring in her stomach. This was more than a friendly gesture...much more. He seemed to realize it too. His head turned and he leaned his forehead against her, swearing quietly.  
  
"Shit...I shouldn't have...I thought I was strong..." He pronounced 'I' as 'ah' and it sent a shiver down her spine.  
  
"You're the strongest man I know." She murmured. He looked up at her then, his arms still wrapped around her waist, holding her close. Her hand slid over his hard shoulder and over the side of his neck. She held his head with both hands and her thumbs stroked over his jaw. The amber eyes held her blue gaze.  
  
She held her breath for a long moment as she looked down into his face. God...she wanted to lean forward and cast herself into his arms and against his body, burrowing against his heat, breathing in his scent. Instead, she brushed the pad of her thumb over his bottom lip and then leaned down slowly. He stared up at her and didn't move. She saw his eyes close just before she parted her lips and kissed him lightly.  
  
She drew back slightly to glance at him, and he looked at her in silence before his hand came up and slid around her nape, drawing her back to him. His mouth opened under hers this time and she felt his tongue slide along her lip. She inhaled sharply and suddenly they were kissing deeply, their mouths fused and their tongues sliding together. His hand was almost painful on her nape, holding her tightly to the kiss. She slid her hands over his shoulders to his back and they slid down his spine as he slowly stood up in her arms, not pulling his mouth from hers for a moment.  
  
She could taste the whiskey between them, and his tongue was silky against hers. He kissed her aggressively, as intense towards sex as he was towards everything else. His hands slid under her T-shirt and over the skin of her back.  
  
"Courtney... " He murmured against her lips, breaking the kiss. "Don't leave..."  
  
She shook her head and joined her lips to his once more as they fell back on the bed.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Don't go gettin yourself into trouble with those snakes and force me to come save your ass... like usual." Wayne said, as he opened the door to the Dakota the next morning. His eyes held hers, and Courtney smiled faintly.  
  
"You'll be back." She stated firmly. She threw her bag into the passenger seat of the truck and turned to face him.  
  
He shrugged and suddenly reached into the cargo pocket of his fatigues. He grabbed her right hand and slid the small, green box that held his medal into her fingers.  
  
"Here... I want you to hold on to this for me..."  
  
She stared down at it, feeling astounded. "What? No... Wayne, this is..."  
  
He squeezed her fingers around the box almost painfully. "Keep it safe for me, Courtney. Just until I can stand to look at it."  
  
She thought about that for a long moment, feeling the warmth of his hands around hers and the sharpness of the box beneath. She slowly nodded. He leaned on the truck's door and grabbed her head with one hand. His lips touched hers lightly.  
  
"My soul's in there." He said quietly, with warning in his voice. She nodded grimly, unfazed by all this dramatic talk.  
  
"What about your heart?"  
  
"My heart's belonged to... someone... for a long time now. I guess she never knew she had it... since it didn't come in a nice little box."  
  
Courtney's head snapped up, and she met the brown eyes with no breath left in her lungs. He was completely serious. He held her gaze steadily, and his hands dropped from hers, leaving the box in her possession. He stood intimately close to her, and she found her hands grabbing handfuls of his shirt and holding tight.  
  
"You'll be back." She insisted again.  
  
One corner of his mouth tugged upwards and he slid a hand into her hair, pulling her head closer to his.  
  
"You can't fight forever, Cinderella." He said quietly against her temple.  
  
She summoned her best southern accent for the reply. "The hell ah can't!"  
  
He smiled, and she climbed into the Dakota. He shut the door for her, and she smiled as she drove away, watching him standing in the sun in the rearview mirror.  
  
As she pulled onto the paved road a mile below the house, she sighed, took the truck out of four-wheel drive, and reached into her pocket to touch the small box in her jacket.  
  
"You'll be back." She whispered.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"The day reminds me of you, The night hides your truth  
  
The Earth is a voice, Speaking to you  
  
Take all this pride, And leave it behind  
  
Cause one day it ends, One day we die  
  
Believe what you will, That is your right  
  
But I choose to win  
  
I choose to fight  
  
To fight..... "  
  
--Weathered... By Creed  
  
All lyrics in this story printed without permission.  
  
END  
  
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End file.
